So as I was driving home (early!) today from work, I began to think--for reasons that I'm not entirely sure of--of some of the jobs that I have had....you know, back in the day.
It would have been in the early part of the summer of '85 when I decided to leave the good folks at Toys R Us. TRU was a great job for a young single guy. There was tons of tail working there during the holiday season, but at this point I had recently gotten married to....ahem.....the artist formerly known as former Mrs Me # 1. So since I had just gotten hitched, and had a wife and young child (hers) that I had to support....I did what any incredibly stupid guy would do.
I quit my job.
Yeah, that's the ticket. What a freakin moron I was. I had an extremely rare week's vacation from TRU and had gone on the job hunt and found this outfit called
"Vorwerk, USA". It was a German company that sold---as I like to call it---carpet cleaning systems. That's another way of saying that they sold vacuum cleaners.
Not just any vacuum cleaners though--these were really EXPENSIVE vaccum cleaners, and they came with their very own cleaning solutions. The whole gimmick sold for the ridiculously expensive price of like $1,100. Keep in mind--this was 1985. So I went in, applied (on the sly without TRU knowing) and had a great big shot of ego boost when the glowed at my relatively crappy resume and told me how emminently qualified I was for the position they were seeking.
I even went home and showed it to my father--who had to grudgingly admit that the German company appeared to be fairly solid. They threw this insane numbers at the applicants--like how you got 23% of every sale--so if you even sold TWO a week you would take in $500. All they wanted you to do was to make a minimum of 7 appointments per week--which were set up for you by the company. You would have to do no cold calls and no door-to-door stuff.
Ahem.
Like I said....that's what they TOLD us during the application process.
So I get there on the first day of work and discover, ya know....its a little different than what they had initially told us. Actually, if it was slow, we might have to do some door-to-door canvassing--just like, sort of , dropping stuff on doorknobs and the like. And then they took us through the whole sales pitch--which, like a lot of companies like this was strictly controlled and expected to be followed to the letter.
You basically had to take the damn machine (cough, cough--vacuum cleaner) apart and show the prospective customer the inner workings of the machine and how easily and efficiently it worked. Then you showed them the exclusive cleaning solution they had. The stuff was very weird. It was like if you picked a sponge into about 1,000 pieces after wetting it and then sprinkled it onto a carpet. And then, just to make things really weird? The vacuum was complete shit--but the solution was actually pretty good stuff--and one of those freaky anamolies that no one could explain--worked great at killing fleas (I could personally testify because my dog at the time had a really bad case until we put the solution on the carpet in a test run.
Next day? ZERO fleas. Really strange). Anyway, a few days into this nonsense, I began to realize that I was going to be a freakin vacuum cleaner salesman (Things that would've been nice for me to know BEFORE I had quit my other job). So I bid adieu to the good folks at Vorwerk and set out to find another job.
Here's another thing I hav elearned. The worst place to find a job?
The want ads.
The jobs they have listed there are without a doubt the crappiest, most fly by night, zero chance of longterm future jobs that are out there. So, since I was still young, I still had this fantasy about getting into radio (once again--something I should've looked into before I got MARRIED). So one day in the want ads I see a blurb about this company that sells radio advertisements to stations all over the company.
I do a little quick math, and decide that this would mean that I was almost//ya know, technically//be in the radio business. Shaaaaa.....right.
Once again, the interview process goes wonderfully, and I'm told just how incredibly qualified I am--oh, and you want to get into radio?? This is a great place to start!--man was I a dipshit when I was young (and oh boy can I give you some examples of that!). So my first day on the job I'm watching the other guys doing their job.
Basically what it consisted of was calling different places around the country (in the case of my section--car dealerships) and trying to pitch them on a buying a certain kind of radio advertisement. You had a script, and I mean they expected you to follow it to the letter. And the commericals were the fucking worst. Stupid, redneck
characters talking about how great the prices were at Joe Smith Ford. Ugh. So in the afternoon they gave me my own desk and I went to work selling these goofy commercials. Realizing even then when I'm reading some crappy dialogue, I began making "slight" modifications to what was written. For instance....if the script was:
"Hi there. How has your day been?"
I might change it to---"Hi there. How's everything going today?"
And I would see this little red light flash on my desk. And after the call my supervisor (who was monitoring me) would yell into my headphones about how I wasn't following the script. Total insanity. You were basically expected to make over 100 calls a day....figuring I suppose that you'd get hung up on 3/4 of the time.
I really, really hated it. But, I figured I'd give it another day to see if things were different on a new day. I went in...and before our actual day began, they had this office meeting. I'll never forget looking around and seeing all these older guys with ties that didn't match their shirts, armpit stains, the whole Andy Sipowicz look.
And I'm thinking.....oh man! I am too young to be stuck here for the next 20 years.
And they announce that Jim, over in the sales department for home electronics ads, had made 11 sales yesterday! And all these losers began cheering the guy.
I knew I had to leave.
Either that or kill myself.
Now--for a quick little backstory. At the time of this story, I had a 1967 Pontiac Firebird. It was my first car. It was a great car.....except for this one little problem.
Apparently Pontiacs of the 60's had these weird little electronic quirks that would come up now and again---and my car was one of those. Literally.
For reasons that NO ONE could explain, I would put my key in the ignition, turn the key---and nothing would happen. I would take the key out....sit there for a couple of minutes....and put the key back in....and the car would start up with no problem.
It was beyond aggravating. I had a new ignition switch put in--didn't help. New starter--didn't help. It was so frustrating....especially since I am the original Mr Know Nothing when it comes to cars or anything mechanical (just ask any of my wives). So now lets realize that at any given time, I could go out to my car and not know if it would start at that moment---or not. Are you with me? HELLO! Wake up!
So, after watching this horrible meeting, I decide that I have to get out of this place.
So I go to my desk and realize (as fate would have it) that I had left my pencil in the car. You had to use your pencil to write down your calls, their responses......so it was a pretty vital part of your work area. So I tell my supervisor that I'm going out to my car to get my pencil--he's like, well I can give you another damn pencil.
But I insist. So I go out to the car....take my keys out.....close my eyes and put the keys into the ignition.
"Lord....if you want me to stay here....the car won't start. But if you want me out of here...this bad boy is going to fire right up."
First turn of the ignition---car started.
"Thank you God."
I was back looking for work again. But it looked like I wouldn't be killing myself that night. So I had that going for me.
Later,
Jeff
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